


A collection of Tom blurbs

by sunflowerparker



Category: Tom Holland (Actor) - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Knifeplay, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Smut, Vaginal Sex, innocence kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerparker/pseuds/sunflowerparker
Summary: just a collection of blurbs of Tom Holland I have written (mostly aus)
Relationships: Tom Holland (Actor)/Reader, Tom Holland (Actor)/You, Tom Holland/Reader, Tom Holland/You
Kudos: 7





	1. mob tom x inexperienced reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oral - m receiving, innocence kink, praise kink, a little bit of hair pulling

“Will you?” you ask.

Tom stutters quite uncharacteristically. “W-what?”

“Will you teach me?”

There’s a brief pause where Tom appears to be considering your proposal, but you’ve been friends long enough to know that look: scheming face. His index finger rests gracefully on his chin. His dark eyes are focused intently on a random object on the bookshelf in his office. His other hand toys with the watch band of the lavish timepiece his father gifted him for his recent birthday. He’s about to make a counter-offer, which you suppose is better than outright saying no.

When his gaze finally flits back to you curled up in the chair on the other side of his desk, you notice the way his eyes soften. He leans back in the swivel chair, crossing his arms over his front, disrupting the perfect placement of his tie. Here we go.

“How about you tell me why you want me to teach you, and then we can talk about whether or not this is a mere bad idea or outright terrible,” he offers with an arch of his brow.

You huff out of impatience. “I already told you, Tommy. I’ve never gone down on a guy before, and I want to know what I’m doing for…later.”

“Later?” His face contorts into something like a grimace. “Later for who? I thought you weren’t seeing anyone.”

Lifting a shoulder into a shrug, you look away from his intense stare. Tom knows how difficult it has been for you to be in a relationship with your father belonging to the mob. He tends to ward off any nice boy that even glances in your direction never mind allow anything to progress farther than a first date.

“No man in his right mind would touch my little girl unless he has looked me in the eye and pledged with his life to keep you safe,” your father has said. On multiple occasions. You love him dearly, but his protective nature is rather overbearing at times. You want more from life than a shadow of scraggly guards lurking outside of restaurant windows to ensure you don’t go home with anybody your father might not approve of–which is everyone.

“I’m not, but later for… I don’t know, Tom. Just later.”

You know he’s not yet convinced, but the fact that he’s even entertaining the idea at all has filled you with a sliver of hope.

“Why me?” Tom asks. The one question you know you can talk your way around, but shouldn’t.

The truth is, you find the man otherworldly attractive. He’s regal in his position as second in command, wears the part flawlessly like he is made to be the general of soldiers. Tom knows you. He’s always known you. He understands the life you both live–the risks, the thrills, the mundane. He is everything you could ever ask for in a man and already fits into your life like a perfect puzzle piece, yet he has never once dared to show you even the slightest hint that he might care for you as more than a mere friend.

“You were my first kiss, remember?” you say instead. “That summer night when we were seventeen.”

You can picture that story clear as day. You and Tom had snuck out of the house in the cloak of dark to swim in the pool, playing and splashing until the rays of dawn threatened to spill over the horizon.

You had asked him then what it felt like to kiss someone. After watching him struggle and blush his way through trying to tell you what it was like, you sauntered over to him so close his back pressed against the side of the pool.

“Teach me?” you asked. His eyes refused to lift from your lips as he slowly nodded his head. They were soft yet firm pressed against yours, wet from the water, but it only made it more intense. It was so easy to get carried away, hands grasping for skin, pulling each other closer.

You have no idea how far it might have progressed had one of the crew members caught you two, dragging you both still dripping wet into your father’s office for a stern reprimand.

You have traded many kisses with different people since that day, yet the one you shared with Tom is still your favorite and burns bright in your mind every time your feelings for your closest friend resurface.

Judging by his newly flushed cheeks, Tom recalls the memory too.

“Fuck is it hot in here?” you hear Tom mumble under his breath as he loosens his slim black tie and unbuttons the first few buttons of his dress shirt.

The unkempt look is only driving your desire for this to come to fruition higher. You lick your lips as you watch him toss the black silk to the side of his desk. “Just you, Tommy,” you say. You dare add in a wink when his eyes widen.

He abruptly stands from his desk, pacing the room. He is acting like you’ve proposed something so intricate he’s having to review it over carefully, combing through any subtle conditions before he can officially agree to it.

“Let’s get this straight,” Tom reflects finally, pausing in the middle of the room. There’s a frown on his face from how hard he’s thinking. You resist the temptation to grab his face and kiss it away.

“There’s no catch,” you sigh. “I just want you to teach me.”

Tom walks back to his desk, taking a seat. “You want to-”

“I want to suck your cock, Tom. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Christ,” he exhales. His head rests in his hands, long fingers splayed across his gelled hair. His elbows dig into the hard wood of the desk as you hear him release another large breath of air. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he didn’t want to concede.

“Just say no if you don’t want to do this,” you plead earnestly. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings.”

That is a lie. You can feel it bubble in the back of your throat, but Tom seems too lost in thought to notice. You’ve never been able to lie directly to his face without him seeing straight through you.

“No, it’s not that.” Tom lifts his head from his hands, his deep eyes studying you. For what, you aren’t sure.

When a fresh air of silence settles over you both, you resolve to take the matter into your own hands.

Pushing off the chair, you stalk your way around the desk separating you both, eyes locked with Tom the entire time. He gulps when you move closer, spinning his chair so he’s facing you not the desk. Your hands come to rest on either armrest, your face hovering close enough to spot every subtle freckle peppering his cheekbones.

Without so much as a word, you drop to your knees in front of Tom, hearing a sharp intake of air from above you. You spread his knees apart to position yourself between them. Your eyes graze his trousers, a noticeable bulge growing beneath the zipper. So he does want this. Why the reluctance?

Your palms glide over the soft fabric, eyes only lifting to Tom’s once your hands pause over the tops of his thighs. His chest heaves and he looks like he’s about to concede, but then you start to fumble with his belt. Firm hands immediately clamp over yours, his thumbs squeezing into your palms as if he has to will himself to stop you.

“No,” Tom says sternly. You’re about to frown when he adds, “Not here. Not like this.”

He guides you to your feet, standing from the chair. Lifting the back of your hands to his mouth, he presses gentle kisses to your knuckles. “Are you sure you want this?”

The tenderness laced in his voice stirs dark desire in the pit of your stomach. “I’m sure. I want this with you.”

Knotting your fingers together, Tom guides you out of his office and up the stairs towards his room. He’s walking quickly, and you nearly stumble up the first couple of stairs. You pass by several people who throw you strange looks, but you’re too eager to pay them any mind.

When you reach his bedroom, Tom closes and locks the door behind you both. He leaves you standing by the door as he calmly treads over and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. The plush rug that lays underneath his bed is going to make this a lot better than the wood flooring of his office. At least he cares enough to have considered that.

Padding over to him, you settle between his legs as you did once before. You look up to see if there’s any signs of regret, but all you find is his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he stares down intently watching your every move.

You proceed to undo his belt and unzip his trousers. Tom lifts his hips off the bed as you peel off both the pants and his boxers in one motion. As soon as they pool on the ground, you hone in on his cock. It stands impressively with the flushed head and weepy slit. You swallow dry air sight of it, the thought of this unfolding seeming like an unattainable dream mere days ago.

Drawing your hand to wrap around his length, you take note of the warmth of it, the soft skin, the way Tom makes a low throaty sound when you apply a hint of pressure, squeezing him a bit. Tom’s hands run up your shoulders and settle into your hair, his thumbs rubbing your temple sweetly.

“You can’t take this back,” he says softly. As soon as the words leave his mouth, his shaft twitches in your hand. A smirk pulls your lips into a sly grin.

“Looks as if you like the sound of that, Tommy.”

He merely groans again, his grip in your hair tightening. His teeth grit together as he grunts, “I can’t believe I’m going to be the first one inside that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Are you going to tell me what to do or are you just going to keep mumbling to yourself up there?” you tease.

He ignores your quip, diving into instruction. The deep crease between his brows makes him appear comically serious compared to the situation at hand. “Just do whatever feels right, and make sure you don’t take too much at once. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You release a deep breath of air, readjusting your position to what feels the most natural. “If I do something wrong will you tell me?”

Tom chuckles darkly. His thumbs are still swiping sweetly over your temples. “Unless you start using teeth, you will do just fine. But yes, I will tell you if you do something I don’t care for.”

The dark glint in his eyes shimmers bright when you poke your tongue out, licking from the base of his cock to the tip. You swirl your tongue around the top, the salty taste of him foreign on your tastebuds. The low groan Tom releases as a result spurs you to repeat it again despite the slight unpleasantness of it. 

When his grip in your hair tightens, you take that as your cue to stop the teasing and get down to the real thing. You wrap your lips around him, taking his length into your mouth until Tom pulls on your hair, stopping you mid-movement.

“Easy, easy,” he chides, voice rough as nails. “Take it fuck take it slow, angel.”

The mere change in his voice sends a shudder through you. You ache for him. You ache to make him unravel, to hear your name on his tongue in a way you’ve never heard before.

Starting your movements again, you obey. You take him slow, your gaze fixed on his face with him staring right back. He’s heavy on your tongue, warm in your mouth. It’s a strange feeling, but hearing his bated breath sounding all too much like a whimper makes it all worth it.

As you begin bobbing your head up and down his length like your previous internet research suggested, you seem to be doing something right by the way Tom can’t stop praising you. “Just look at you. So pure, angel. But not anymore.”

His words only add to the throbbing of your cunt. You can feel how slick you are when you clench your thighs together, chasing the sensation of relief.

“This is the least of what I want to teach you,” Tom grunts out when you work what you can’t fit into your mouth with your hand. “Such a good girl. Fast learner and everything. Fucking hell I’m not going to last, y/n.”

You start to take him farther feeling him pulse on your tongue, his praise egging you on. Tom only seems more pleased. “Darling, you’re doing so well. Your sweet little mouth feels so good around me. So good for me. All for me.”

It doesn’t take long before Tom tugs hard on your hair, yanking you off of him. You’re about to protest when he wraps his own hand around himself, pumping furiously until he cums with a deep moan of your name.

“Oh god yeah,” he moans out, finally slowing his movements. “Fuck. You made an absolute mess out of me.”

The carpet beneath you is ruined. How he managed not to get anything on his profoundly expensive suit, you have no idea.

Tom reaches over to his nightstand and takes a tissue to his hand, wiping it clean. When he’s done, he reaches for you, guiding you up onto the bed so you’re straddling his waist as he lies back on the plush covers.

“Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” he asks with a chuckle. There’s a faint flush of pink on his cheeks, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed or if it’s merely from being satisfied.

“I’m positive,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Tom draws a hand to your face, cupping it sweetly. “Thank you for trusting me. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I always trust you, Tommy. I don’t think I could ever trust anyone as much as I trust you.”

Before you can even process your own words that seemed to spew from your mouth, Tom’s lips are hungrily attaching to yours. His hands are back in your hair, and he’s moaning into your mouth.

A knock on the door startles you both, and you stifle a gasp as you pull away from the kiss.

“Tom, have you seen my daughter?” you hear your father shout from the other side.

The incredibly careless boy underneath you snickers, which earns him a rightful swat to the shoulder as he calls back with a heavy blush on his cheeks, “No, sir. I have not.”


	2. rival mob reader x mob tom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mentions of violence, smut: hints of degradation, choking, orgasm denial, knife play, mxf intercourse, fingering, hate sex

Your back is pressed up against the hard wood as soon as the double doors to the meeting room click shut. Your arms are pinned over your head in one swift movement, another strong hand wrapping around your neck.

“You get,” Tom growls with gritted teeth. “under my goddamn skin like no one else.”

Before you can utter your smart retort back, his lips fasten with yours in a bruising kiss, nipping at the soft flesh of your bottom lip, warm tongue sliding over your teeth and into your mouth. Messy, angry, hot. His hand around your throat pushes you farther into the door, yet he’s nearly ravishing your mouth with a mere kiss. You can’t help but think, like yourself, Tom is fighting an inner war of how much he hates you and how much he’s undeniably attracted to you.

God, you hate him. You hate him so much, at times, all you can see is his face when you lay awake at night. But when he does shit like this, getting you worked up and making your cunt throb, your animosity starts to turn into something sinisterly sweet. It makes you hate him even more.

It’s almost like foreplay—the meeting before you inevitably fall into bed together. The way he sits at the head of the table, regal and imperious, drives you up a wall as the leader of a rival mob, but it does wonders for you in the bedroom later. Your frustration builds every time he denies a request, alters a standing negotiation, or backs out of a deal no matter how small.

You can’t deny you do the same, waiting for that deep crease to form in his brow, the one that makes him look like a man. It stirs a dark sense of lust inside of you, one that can’t be quenched by anyone besides Tom. You know, because you’ve sorely tried and failed to have others take his place, but it’s always Tom, and only Tom, that can make you feel any sort of satisfaction after the intensified build up of salacious contempt, rage, and twisted respect. A near lethal combination but unavoidable and lecherous all the same.

“You know, Tommy,” you say, breath coming out in pants as he works his lips over the column of your throat. “I should reward you for actually being fairly compliant today. You hardly put up a fight when I suggested we share the docks off of Gessell Street for shipments.”

At that, Tom licks a thick stripe up your neck, latching onto the sensitive skin below your ear with his teeth. Your breath stops short, soft, pathetic whimpers slipping out as he marks your skin. The two of you have one rule: no marks. The men standing guard outside of the room can speculate all they want, imagining what takes place behind closed doors, but so long as there are no marks, there is no cause for questions to be raised. And here Tom is defying that sacred statute.

“How’s that for compliant, darling?” he asks once finished. There’s always a blade-like edge to the nicknames he gives you. There is no candy floss-sweet sentiment behind darling. Darling is for you. For his temperamental, feisty, vexing lover. “I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you out of this bloody outfit and bent over the table like the needy slut I know you are. I’d bet money—a lot of money—that you’re a dripping mess for me right now.”

The place he marked stings from how hard he sucked on your skin, and you mentally curse him for making you enjoy it. You can hardly draw a scowl to your features between the blooming hickey and the borderline confession.

“Is that right?” When he smirks, you use his cocky attitude to your advantage, catching him off guard as you flip the two of you around so his back is pressed against the doors, your forearm to his throat. He drops the smug expression. Ever slowly, you draw your other hand up his thigh, tracing the pinstripe pant of his suit until you reach the zipper. Your hand splays over his crotch, grip tightening when you hear a low throaty sound creep out of Tom’s mouth. “And are you to tell me you’re not just as hungry for me, darling?”

His eyes blaze with a kind of reverence when you throw his pet name back in his face. “Release me, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you just how much more desperate you are for my cock than I am for that sweet, sweet pussy of yours.”

You recognise his wiles from a mile away, yet it has never stopped you from indulging him. He always returns the favour in bountiful supply. That’s always been enough to make you bite your lip and play the part of his most hated lover.

“I’d love to see you try,” you provoke, loosening your hold of him ever so slightly. That’s all it takes for Tom to grab your arm, twisting it behind your back, making your body spin with it. You are roughly pressed down onto the long, mahogany table with your face downwards and arm pinned behind your back. You can feel the pompous bastard gloating from behind you.

“My darling nemesis, the ever constant thorn in my side, you make it too easy.” He knocks on the insides of your feet to coax your legs to spread. You comply only to hear his confusion ring out in the form of a protest. “What the fuck is this?”

His hands wander over the curve of your ass to your waist, assessing your chosen outfit for the day. You’re wearing a professional-looking jumpsuit, his usual easy access to your panties through your dresses denied by the closed off pant legs. You chuckle darkly when you realise why he’s upset. “You’ll have to work for it a little harder this time, Tommy.”

With pinching fingers, Tom nips at the fabric as if he’s deciding how to punish you for such an act of insubordination.

“I don’t think I will, though,” he says daringly. You hear a clip being undone, but with your face still pressed to the table, you have no earthly idea what he’s doing until the glint of a blade shines on the table next to your face. You swallow thickly. “Consider this a lesson learned.”

The knife leaves a shallow scratch on the table when Tom slides it out of your view. You sense him stoop down behind you, a gentle touch of his hand engulfing your ankle. You could easily move now that he’s no longer holding you down, but the sick sense of want inside of you freezes you in place.

“Hold still,” Tom demands, voice sharp as daggers.

There’s a moment of silence before the sound of tearing threads rings out, the ghost of the cool metal blade snaking up the back of your leg. You close your eyes to will yourself to keep your legs open, not wanting to move and misdirect his motions and cause yourself harm. The thrill of it all sends unmistakable heat to your already aching cunt.

When he reaches the back of your thighs, the fabric hugs closer to your skin, and the touch of the knife becomes less wraith-like and more palpable. The blunt edge of the metal grazes over your skin, raising chill bumps in its wake.

Tom follows the cut through all the way to the collar of the jumpsuit, letting the knife fall to the table with a clamour. You feel his hands next, tracing the shape of the slit, pushing the fabric off of your body slowly like he’s unwrapping a present.

“If I didn’t know any better, darling,” he taunts. Your hatred for him doubles in size in an instant, anticipating what he’s about to say. “I’d say you enjoyed that. Hm?”

He rips the rest of your expensively ruined jumpsuit off your body, tossing it aside. The thought that you now have nothing to wear once your rendezvous is over creeps in, but it is wiped away with a single swipe of Tom’s finger over your clothed folds. The dampness presses into your sex with his touch; you can only imagine the smug expression on Tom’s face.

“Don’t you agree?”

He leans over you, his chiseled chest laying over your bare back. With balled fists on the table next to your face, you take note of the timepiece decorating his wrist—the one you complimented the last time he visited your estate. Had he worn it for you? Your thought is cut short when his teeth graze your ear, nibbles gracing its shell as his hands explore the shape of your figure. Voice hot in your ear, Tom whispers, “Gonna fuck you so hard you’re never going to even consider wearing something like that again.”

Not bothering to remove your panties, Tom drags them to the side, sinking two fingers into your slick slit. “That’s what I thought,” he mumbles more to himself than to you. You hate him. You hate how your body betrays you when it comes to him.

A hand weighs down on your lower back, warm and familiar and almost soothing. His deft fingers of his other hand fuck in and out of you, scissoring you open, plunging into you and curling the way you like. He knows what he’s doing to you; he knows your body like the back of his hand.

As your walls start to clench around him, you know you’re close, and he can feel it too. Without warning, Tom removes his fingers from your cunt, and a pitiful whine spills from your mouth. You’re going to kill him.

“Don’t act so disappointed, my darling. You don’t wear desperation well.”

You eye the blade resting on the table just out of reach. You’re going to kill him with his own knife, you’ve decided.

Your fingers itch for the blade.

You wouldn’t actually do it. There’s too much on the line with treaties and agreements to have his blood on your hands, but a little threatening never hurt anyone, right?

If anything is going to stop you from the plan formulating in your mind, it is exactly what Tom is doing now. He spreads your cheeks apart, the tip of his cock lining up with your entrance. There’s a single moment where you contemplate wiggling free from his grasp and diving for the knife, but as soon as he sinks into you, sating the ache that’s been growing for him since he walked through your front door, the desire ebbs away. Instead, it is replaced by something bolder, something more twisted than wanting to hold a knife to your enemy’s throat. Consuming lust takes its place.

His hips roll into yours both relentlessly and skillfully. When he reaches down and guides one of your legs to rest on the table, spreading you open more for him, your mouth falls open.

You’re like a churning storm when you come together, blazing streaks of lightning and low roars of thunder in every passing touch. It’s electric and deep, leaving you tingling all over even after Tom is long gone.

It is no different when he withdraws himself from your aching pussy, denying you once more.

Your mind instantly conjures an image of Tom beneath your grip, knife to his throat, doing your bidding. Perhaps another time.

“Look at your hole all needy for me,” Tom says, his fingers grazing your soaked lips. “All needy and nothing to satisfy it.”

Your teeth grind together. You almost scoff when he finishes his taunting with, “You know what you need to do to get what you want, what you so desperately need to feel full and contented.”

If hate could glow, you’d be as bright as the sun. “I won’t.”

“You will,” he challenges. “You will if you want to cum, y/n.”

You fall silent. His hand traces over the curve of your ass, kneading at the supple flesh as he waits for you to answer. He prompts you again, this time with irritation in his tone. His patience wears thin all too easily when it comes to you. “Beg.”

With barely restrained fury, you utter, “Please.”

“Please, what?”

You swallow the growing list of swears you wish you could hurl at him. “Please fuck me, Tom.”

He pinches your backside, and you yelp. If you didn’t know who any better, you’d almost deem his touch playful. “Now grovel earnestly this time.”

With a roll of your eyes you’re glad he does not take notice of, you push your pride aside for a fleeting moment. As earnestly as you can manage, you say, “Tommy, please fuck me. I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck me until my legs are shaking and I cum all over your cock.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The cockiness in his tone makes you want to light a fire under him just to watch him dance. He leans down close to your ear once more and whispers, “So compliant.”

If he hadn’t started fucking you again as soon as he said it, you would have lost your grip on your anger. Nonetheless, his movements mollify you—for now.

You cum on his cock soon after as your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep from crying out. As your walls squeeze him, you hear Tom curse under his breath as he chases his own high.

In a moment of clarity, you lunge for the knife, twisting around to hold the blade to Tom’s throat as he slides out of you. The force in which you do all these things drives him backwards, causing him to fall into a chair.

His chest is heaving, his eyes are wide and full of scorn, his painfully hard and unsatisfied cock stands tall and proud against his stomach.

You smile down at him as you straddle his lap, grip on the knife vice-like. “What was that about groveling, darling?” He sneers, but his eyes light up with veneration. “Now be my best beau. Beg.”


End file.
